Just last night I called my mom who I hadn’t talked to in over a week and caught up. I complained to her about being bored and miserable in summer school how I wished I could just be home already.
And then this morning, I got a wake-up call.
A fellow Baylor Bear and friend died in a car accident this morning. I do not know the details, nor can I even say I really know or rather knew her, but I do know that it is shaking me to the core. Emily and I ran in the same social crowd I guess you could say. A beautiful girl, beautiful smile, always up for a good time, I liked seeing her around. I just saw her last Thursday at dinner in fact.
The mood around the world has been somewhat morbid recently with the passing of Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett(not that they are of real importnace to me) and now the passing of Emily has only made it surreal. To think it was just a normal day... get up for school, drive to class, don’t think twice about it. Then not make it to class, not make it home, and not get the chance to say good-bye.
Though death happens to us all, situations like this make me ask ‘why?’ Why, God, should this young woman have to die? Why today? Why in a car wreck? Why now? WHY!?
There are no answers. There is only hope that you can live each day like it is your last, say I love you when you get the chance, and be the best person you can because life is short and life is precious, don’t let it pass you by.

RIP Emily

father's day

I wish I had some heart-wrenching story about my father and I, or even a comedic one or a profound memory of him and I these past 20 years. Though nothing life-changing comes to mind, I do have a number of memories that are irreplaceable….
. . . I was a youngster and you know how you thought it was so fun to sit atop your dad’s shoulders or have him grab your hands and twirl you in the air like superman? Yeah, so did I, ‘til he flung my elbow out of its socket on one of my superman adventures. Oops. It’s okay though because dads can get away with those things and we never get mad, we just scream in pain until they pop it back into its place. Ouch.
. . . One image of my father that makes me laugh every time is of him in our swimming pool. A Midwestern boy, he never learned to swim though somehow his younger siblings did. Now a Californian, and proud owner of a swimming pool he puts on his trunks, lathers on SPF100 for an afternoon dip, removes his glasses and makes every attempt to “swim,” but not before he summons a family member to come outside and watch him, for fear he might drown. He flails into the water, scrunches up his face and brushes his partially soaked hair out if his eyes. It’s time for laps; not along the length of the pool of course, but along the width. So he makes giant splashes as he kicks and freestyles his way the 15 ft. from one side of the pool to the other. I must say, his stroke is improving, so is his tan. When he’s done with his laps, he puts on his prescription sun glasses, brushes back his thinning gray hair into a spike and does an uncanny impersonation of Jack Nickelson. You really should see this, it’s rather amusing. Maybe this summer I’ll teach him the back stroke…
. . .Tennis is not my favorite sport. However, my dad plays frequently and whenever I’m home I get the urge to have some father/daughter bonding time and suggest we play together. So we do, and every time without fail I am reminded how much I do not enjoy the game. After a few rallies I’m already in lazy mode, not picking the balls up off the ground and I want to call it quits. Then I look across the court and think, “I refuse to let a 50 year old man have more energy than me!” So I make a few more attempts at returning serves and even serve some of my own, play games and end up losing 40-love or however it is you keep score. I will say though, that he is very encouraging. “Nice shot!” “Good serve!” he’ll say, even when they’re terrible. I’ll walk over and check the time wondering when we can leave. “It’s only been thirty minutes!?” Yet I guarantee you that next time I’m home, I’ll convince myself I do like the sport, put on my tennis get-up, hit a few balls and realize yet again that it’s about to be a long hour in the hot sun.

Happy father’s day!

Keeping Austin Weird...and fabulous

  My weekend of firsts in Austin started lakeside. I saw thousands of bats create an animated black cloud as they flew against the grey-pink sky on their nightly journey from their home under a Town Lake bridge to hundreds of miles South for the evening. Then I tried a scallop and didn't spit it into my napkin, I actually liked it. I witnessed the busiest street in Austin be blocked off for hundreds of motorcyclists to come and show off their shiny toys to fellow tattooed-leather wearing men and women. I made a pomegranate martini, carmelized pecans and road a bike, none of which I had done before.

Now I know what you're thinking..."you've never ridden a bike?" Well, my friends, I have, but not like this. When I was in Kindergarten I got my first bike on Christmas morning. It was blue and I advanced past training wheels rather quickly and can only recall one wipeout on the driveway. Since growing out of that bike, the hills of my neighborhood back home were not really conducive to bike riding and the sight of my mom and dad's bikes, dust-covered, tires deflated, buried in the garage were really no incentive for me to begin a career in cycling. But then flatter than flat Waco came along and so did uber expensive gas, so it was only natural I should make an attempt at bike riding again. This past september for my 20th birthday I got a beautiful, turquoise beach cruiser that I love and ride with all my might the 10 blocks to school everyday. 

But I've never ridden a bike more than 10 blocks and don't know anything but back pedaling as a means of braking and loose gravel as a means of "off-roading." Well, there I was on a legitimate mountain bike, gears on the right handle, gears on the left handle, and no back pedal. I learned that the hard way when testing out the bike and nearly meeting the metal gate face to face when the pedals flew backwards with no intention of stopping. Oops. But so I practiced about five minutes, adjusted my seat (bike seats are quite possibly the most uncomfortable thing ever invented), buckled my helmet, and put on a camelpack (yes, I was that intense) and off we went....a whopping 17 miles! I'm proud to say I hit no pedestrians, no cars and only lightly sideswept a leashless dog :) Success.

The first fry

It's like a right of passage. It's not really summer until you fry yourself for the first time. There's nothing like a nice coral shade of reddish pink to show for a day in the sun. You'd think that after 20 years of donning a lobster-clad shade as an accessory to a summer dress, I'd learn to apply a little SPF. But I'm not one to follow the norm. It's usually worth it--that first burn, but this year is a little different. My red glow is the aftermath of an afternoon in Waco, Texas, lounging by a 4 ft. deep cloudy pool with a few leftover tortilla chips disintegrating on third tiled step. I tried to avoid the chip infested pool, but after the millionth drop of sweat rolled down my back, and my knee-pits perspired into tear drops down my calf, I could no longer avoid it. In I went, long enough to cool down and avoid whatever disease was lurking under the surface. Out of the water, my forehead already sweaty, I look down at my awkward  shorts tan, notice the start to my first fry of the season, and think about the freedom of what could potentially be my last summer vacation.